Rama reached the capital's outer gate two days after the shrine visit, riding in ahead of the slower supply wagons with Yudhistira at his side, and felt the city's noise rise around him without any of the relief he'd expected to feel at finally seeing those pale walls again. Something in him had stayed braced since Wanagiri, the old soldier's habit of refusing to fully exhale until every variable was accounted for, and it didn't ease even now, not with the gate guards waving him through, not with the familiar streets opening ahead exactly as he'd left them.
